Chapter 268
Chapter 268:
Crawford’s pupils contracted sharply. A thick, freezing layer of murderous ice formed behind his eyes and stayed there.
Crawford’s dark eyes swept over the bloodied bodies on the ground, then locked onto Cole’s hands gripping June’s shoulders. The muscles in Crawford’s jaw tightened so hard a faint sound escaped through his teeth.
He walked forward slowly, stepping over a groaning thug without a downward glance, and stopped five feet away. He ignored Cole’s massive, shirtless presence entirely and looked straight at June, his voice a low, tightly controlled rumble that barely contained the explosive tension beneath it.
“Are you hurt p>
June shook her head slightly. She was wrapped in Cole’s shirt, the fabric carrying the scent of rain, blood, and his heavy cologne. A deep, uncomfortable twist moved through her stomach. She looked away from Crawford, unable to meet his eyes while held inside this strange, intimate display of Cole’s protection.
Cole felt her shift. His possessive instincts surged. He drew her a fraction of an inch closer to his bare chest, his arm locking around her waist like a steel band.
He looked at Crawford. A dark, arrogant sneer twisted his lips.
“You’re late, Love,” Cole said, his voice dripping with venomous triumph.
𝘗𝘋𝘍𝗌 о𝗇
Crawford’s hands curled into fists at his sides. The impulse to put his fist through Cole’s face was almost overwhelming. But Crawford was a predator who governed his impulses. He knew this was not the moment for a territorial war.
“This location is compromised,” Crawford said, his voice stripped of all emotion. “My vehicle is at the perimeter. We are leaving. Now p>
Cole’s arm tightened around June’s waist. “She is coming with me p>
Before June could speak, Cole moved. He bent his knees, slid one arm behind her back and the other beneath her knees, and lifted her completely off the ground in a single, effortless motion.
June let out a sharp gasp of shock.
“Put me down,” she said, pressing her hands against his bare chest.
Cole ignored her completely. His grip was absolute and unbreakable. He turned his back on Crawford and walked straight toward the exit, carrying her out of the alley like a prize claimed in battle.
Crawford stood perfectly still. The freezing rain battered his face. He watched Cole carry June into the maze of containers until they disappeared from sight. A dark, consuming wave of jealousy swallowed him whole.
He turned slowly and looked down at the men writhing on the ground. His eyes had gone flat and cold — the eyes of something that had stopped being human in the last few minutes.
He looked at his tactical team leader.
“Take the one with the spiderweb tattoo,” Crawford said, his voice dropping to an absolute zero. “Bring him to the abandoned fish warehouse on pier four. Clean up the rest of this p>
Half an hour later, inside a dark, rotting warehouse that smelled of decay and saltwater.
Mick was strapped tightly to a rusted iron chair, his broken arm hanging uselessly at his side, face pale and slick with cold sweat.